


A Fall from Grace Would Do Us Good Today

by rabbitxheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cheating, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9666215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitxheart/pseuds/rabbitxheart
Summary: It starts at a hotel in the middle of winter.No, that's a lie, and Stiles knows it. It starts in his bedroom. In the car. In the goddamn pool. It starts everywhere and nowhere, but Derek's always there in the background and at some point maybe they could have had a first kiss, gone on a few dates and Derek could have come over for dinner. Maybe if Derek had kissed him one out of all those nights they spent looking for Boyd and Erica, maybe even earlier.But it's the middle of winter, in a hotel outside of Beacon Hills, and Derek kisses Stiles for the first time, urgent and needy, and it's as bitter as it is sweet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This has been lingering in my fic doc for a long time now. Title from Hold Me Up by Live.

It starts at a hotel in the middle of winter.

No, that's a lie, and Stiles knows it. It starts in his bedroom. In the car. In the goddamn pool. It starts everywhere and nowhere, but Derek's always there in the background and at some point maybe they could have had a first kiss, gone on a few dates and Derek could have come over for dinner. Maybe if Derek had kissed him one out of all those nights they spent looking for Boyd and Erica, maybe even earlier.

But it's the middle of winter, in a hotel outside of Beacon Hills, and Derek kisses Stiles for the first time, urgent and needy, and it's as bitter as it is sweet.

The night has been fucked up, so fucked up this seems.. not perfectly fine. No. Because Stiles is covered in blood and Derek's barely healed and Stiles was just going to borrow the shower before heading home, but somewhere between barely dodging being eaten by a wendigo and watching it eat Derek instead, pulling Derek towards the bed by his slightly shredded beltloops seems much less fucked up.

It's need, loud and almost brutal and Stiles does his best to pretend it's devoid of emotion, that they'll go back to Malia and Braeden unaffected. That it's a one-off thing, confined to here and now. That when the scratchmarks down Derek's back heal, this won't have happened. A portion of time set aside for the culmination of two years of  _ something _ .

But it's not an end. It's a start.

  
  


Stiles goes back the same night, has to or someone will suspect something, and he leaves Derek's motel room as Derek steps into the shower, barely able to unlock the car door because of how his hands are shaking. 

He's so sure he's wearing it on his sleeve, that it's somehow written in his face the next morning as he walks through the school doors. That if Malia doesn't smell it, Scott will, or Lydia read it on his face, and he almost stays home. But staying home is deviating from the norm, so Stiles goes, lightheaded and confused.

“Hey, where were you last night?” Scott asks him as soon as he steps out of the jeep at school, and Stiles must make a surprised noise, because Scott chuckles. “Sorry, thought you heard me.”

“Patrol with Derek.”

“Oh, right!” Scott nods, remembering. “Find anything?”

“Wendigo. It was a mess, but we survived.”

“Damn. Sorry I missed it.”

“You had work,” Stiles shrugs. “That’s why we made the patrol schedule in the first place.”

“True. You guys don’t have patrol for a while now though. Did he say when he’d be back next time?”

“No idea, he didn’t say.”

“Alright,” Scott nods again.

 

And that’s that.

Well, not really.

 

“Hey, could you do me a favor?” Scott asks him not even two weeks later. ”I have a huge test coming up, but nobody's heard from Peter in a while and Derek's in town so I figured maybe you could make rounds, see if he's been around?”

”Yeah, I'll text him,” Stiles agrees. “He’s already back?” 

“Something about the family vault. I have no idea,” Scott admits, wrestling a very happy puppy into his crate.

 

**_To: Genn Greymane_ **

_ Scott wants us to do his rounds, has to study. You up for it? Boyd and Erica did rounds Saturday, all quiet on the western front. Should be quick. _

 

**_From: Genn Greymane_ **

_ I'll pick you up in 30. _

 

**_To: Genn Greymane_ **

_ I’m at the clinic. _

 

”So,” Stiles says awkwardly. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands anymore, when he can’t just have them on Derek. They rest uneasy in his lap instead as he watches the road and nothing else and tries not to think about Derek’s clenched hand trapped between the small of Stiles’ back and the worn sheets of a motel bed. ”What do we do now?”

”Start at the cliff, work our way in.” Derek shrugs, turning the corner. ”Burgers afterwards?”

”Sure,” Stiles agrees, buckling up. ”What could have cropped up in three days, right?”

 

Bad Stiles. Baaaad Stiles, jinxing things like that.

 

Whatever he's done to become an alpha again, whoever he's killed, it didn’t give the immediate boost killing Laura did. Maybe it’s  _ Peter  _ that’s wrong, because his reflexes are slow despite his eyes shining red and he keeps missing Derek with his claws, something all three of them seem similarly shocked by. 

Peter finally falls after Derek holds him back and Stiles sinks a wolfsbane infused dagger right into his heart, killing him instantly. Just moments later there is a low hissing sound as his body starts disintegrating, as if burning without flame. Stiles imagines it’s something like Dorian Grey; this is how he should have gone, had he not cheated death.

”At least there's no body to hide,” Stiles says, drawing a shaky breath as Peter's body crumbles. In a matter of seconds, there is nothing but dust on the grass. ”Jesus Christ.” He says, turning to Derek. Derek's staring at him, face completely unreadable. Not because it’s devoid of emotion, no; because there’s  _ so much of it _ . ”Are you okay?”

Derek doesn't break their eye contact as he lets his eyes flash, green quickly slipping into deep red.

”Oh, holy shit.” He approaches him slowly. Not because he’s afraid of him, no. He’s afraid  _ for _ him. “Didn’t think about that.” Stiles reaches out without thinking, stroking Derek’s cheek. He nuzzles it, eyes still red and looking right into Stiles’.

He’s still looking him in the eyes as he presses Stiles up against the Camaro, not quite kissing him, but only just. Stiles groans like he’s dying.

”We shouldn't do this,” Derek breathes into his mouth as Stiles unbuttons his shirt.

”I know,” Stiles nods, sliding his fingers into Derek's hair. His voice comes out gentle, like he's comforting him. ”I know.”

”But I  _ really  _ fucking want to.”

”Is this blowing off alpha steam?” Stiles asks teasingly, slight insecurity underneath it all.

Derek just shakes his head breathlessly, hovering next to Stiles' neck like he barely keep himself from biting down. It should scare him, how much he’d be okay with it. The idea of having that bond with Derek, of belonging to eachother in a way so few would understand. He reminds himself that Derek’s coping, both with the power and the grief and the confusion, and adding a bitten Stiles to that would be nothing short of disastrous when he’s not even sure it’s what stable, calm Derek would want.

Except… Except when they did this the first time, Derek hovered at the same places, bit his lip instead of Stiles. This isn’t new, this is a  _ pattern _ .

And that's what makes Stiles break and pull Derek into the backseat, makes him go from gentle to almost crazed, because once can be an accident, lack of thought. This time when he reads Derek's hands on his waist, him holding back from biting at Stiles' skin, finds lube and condoms in Derek's backpack still in the paper bag they came in, he realises just how little about this there is that is accidental, Peter aside. Every brush of skin, every sound, every second of it is so heavy with intent it's making his head swim.  This was going to happen even if Derek hadn't become an alpha. Because Derek wants him and Stiles sure as hell wants Derek. Always has, in one way or another.

Derek lifts him up over his lap easily with one hand and opens the lube with the other, because they’re far enough out in the woods that nobody's gonna find them. Driving to a motel is out of the question at this point. The last clear thought on his mind is of how Derek's hands shake as he wraps an arm around his middle when Stiles is finally sat across his lap, pulling him closer.

 

Derek has, amusingly enough, figured out snapchat along with the rest of them. It’s safe from both police and hunters, Stiles checked. It quickly becomes a means of keeping everyone up to date in the simplest yet most effective way possible. A picture of a roadside diner in Texas here, a video of Theo shifting fully there. School books and food and dogs from the vet clinic and Lydia, Erica and Allison at the mall or something subtly snarky from Boyd written across a picture of Stiles’ yet again broken down car. 

 

Then, one day, Derek sends a picture of a motel room. Just his light bag on the bed, keycard with number visible on the cover. He knows where it is, about half an hour outside of Beacon Hills and not a place the pack would go.

Stiles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Makes himself count to ten until he sends a reply, strips out of his clothes and makes his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

 

It’s less hurried this time. This time Stiles stays for a while, talking about nothing and everything as if it’s something they get to do, talk about everyday things 

Derek never mentions Braeden. Stiles breathes easier, and doesn’t mention Malia in return. He tells Derek about a joke Erica made, they talk about Cora and his dad’s cases and it almost feels normal until Stiles has to shower, put on new clothes and make his way back to his own bed before anyone notices he’s been away at all.

 

Derek stops by Beacon Hills regularly after that. To change cars, get passports, whatever. It’s not like the guy’s an open book to anyone. All Stiles knows is that every time, every single time, Derek snaps him first. Sometimes him and nobody else, and it doesn't take many months for Stiles to lose track of how many times they've met up in secret, always in motels and b&b's small enough that they won't get run into but big enough to not be recognized by the staff the next time they're there.

  
  


”Everything going well with Malia?” Allison asks, and Stiles freezes. He hasn’t seen her outside of school for almost two months, and not even the past two weeks of summer break, truth be told- she’s helping Theo with the coyote thing, Stiles is.. Well. Yeah.

The chlorine in Lydia’s pool is strong enough to block out any chemo signals, and the pokerface? That’s something Stiles already knows how to work.

”Huh?” He says, eloquent as always.

”I haven't seen you this constantly well-dressed since you crushed on me,” Lydia teases, elbowing him lightly. “You even got a haircut.”

”Aw, you noticed,” Stiles teases her. ”Didn't really think about it. Guess it's just nice to make an effort for someone sometimes.”

“Not complaining,” Erica says with a wink from where she’s floating, basking in the sun. Boyd just rolls her eyes at her.

 

“How long are we going to keep your alpha status from Scott?” Stiles asks a few hours later, thumbing at the hems of his hoodie. 

Derek just shrugs, looking out over the town below them.

“I don’t know what good it would do. I don’t have a pack.” He shrugs, but there’s more there that Stiles won’t poke if Derek doesn’t bring it up willingly. ”Has he been asking questions?”

Stiles snorts, shaking his head.

”Nobody's questioned anything this far, surprisingly enough.” If they’d figured it out, Stiles would have heard. Loudly. “I don’t understand how they all survive sometimes.”

Derek stifles an amused chuckle by shoving his gas station coffee into his face despite how scalding it still seems.

”Has Ma- has she figured it out?” He says after taking a sip. Stiles makes a face.

_ Oh. _

”I don't think so. Why?”

”You don’t smell a lot like her, but it’s like with Scott. Like you've been close, but not..” He trails off, looking away. “You know.”

”We don’t hang out a lot outside of school. She’s off with Theo, training. Besides, she's demi.” Derek makes a confused face and Stiles explains, slightly weirded out by talking about her with him for the first time.  “Demisexual, she’s not always sexually attracted to people and when she is, it has to be a really deep bond. It's just never been like that between us. I think it’s a coyote thing. I wouldn’t have smelled a lot like her anyway.” 

Derek hums, then does a literal spit-take, throwing away the coffee after it spills over his hand.

” _ I _ was your first?” He jumps off the hood, turns to face him.

”Hoped you wouldn't catch on to that,” Stiles winces. ”Doesn't matter.”

”Doesn't matter  _ how _ ? You deserve more than a motel room, still covered in my blood,” Derek stands in front of him, yet not looking him in the eyes. ”I would have taken more time, taken care of you. Been gentler.  _ Fuck _ ,” he swears under his breath.

Stiles’ heart  _ aches _ . Not that Derek has ever been uncaring, quite the opposite, but they’ve never had  _ time _ . It’s always rushed and hidden and quick showers and Stiles doing his best to keep it from becoming something it isn’t to Derek, and now Derek says he would have taken his time?

”Don't worry about it.” Stiles hopes Derek can't see the blush creeping onto his cheeks or hear his pulse quicken, but rarely has Derek been that inattentive. ”I'm serious, don't. It was kind of how I’d imagined it would be, I’m not complaining. Besides, it's just sex, not the end of the world.”

”When has it ever been  _ just  _ sex? The two of us?” The look on his face is so _sincere_ , as if playing his cards this openly isn't completely opposite to everything else Derek does.

”Don't. Don’t do that.” Stiles snaps and forces all the bravado he's ever had even if Derek can smell the hurt on him.  _ We don't talk about that _ . ”Not if you don't mean it,” comes out instead, and Derek takes a shaky breath.

”I mean it.”

”No, you don't.”

“I really do.” Derek rests his palms on Stiles' thighs fully, sliding up his hips and his stomach until they stop over his ribs, gentle and hesitant. It’s nothing like the adrenaline fueled, starved touches they’ve shared before.  “They think we're going to Sacramento to look for Peter. When do you need to be back?”

”I’ve a bag.” Derek just raises his eyebrows, urging him on. ”Dad's out of town for a week. My summer job starts in two.” Coffee scented breath brushes Stiles’ cheek when Derek heaves a deep sigh. Resignation or relief, he doesn’t know.

”Then let's go to Sacramento.” Derek nods. ”We'll go, tell them we can't find anything and stay through the weekend. No hurrying back, no dingy motel. Just you and me.”

Relief, then.

”Okay,” Stiles nodding back. ”Okay, yeah. Just us.”

 

They find a hotel this time, the kind where there's chocolate on the pillows and a tub that's actually big enough for both of them. Not that Stiles really notices, because Derek wasn't lying about being unhurried and gentle. By the time he crawls up Stiles’ body to cage him in with his arms, Stiles has been on the edge of coming three times and is even closer to sobbing. Derek doesn’t look much more composed, red slowly working its way into the green of his irises. 

They fall asleep together for the first time, the bed a sweaty mess and their legs tangled, face to face because Stiles  _ needs  _ to see Derek,  _ needs  _ to allow himself to have this, in case this is all they get. Part of him wants to stay awake and savor everything- a weekend is longer than they’ve ever had, but it’s still just three days. Despite this he shifts closer to Derek’s warmth, breathes him in and closes his eyes. 

 

_”Dude, are you still in Sacramento?_ ” Scott says over the phone, confused. 

”Yeah,” Stiles says, glancing at Derek, ordering food for the two of them. They’ve been here for four days now, longer than they should have been, but his dad’s still away and it’s the middle of summer. Stiles doesn’t really have anywhere else to be, not that he’d go willingly at this point. ”Yeah, we're still here.”

_ ”And Peter?” _

”No sign of him yet,” Stiles says, and Derek looks up at him, frowning a bit. “I’ll drive back either tomorrow or Wednesday morning, not sure yet.” He won’t be back until Wednesday night, he already knows.

_“Keep me updated,”_ Scott agrees. _“I’m at the clinic all weekend, if I don’t pick up just call Lydia.”_

"Will do," he replies and hangs up just as the waitress walks away.

”When'd you learn how to lie so well?” Derek asks, having heard Stiles' calm heartbeat. “He wouldn’t have heard your heart over the phone anyway.”

“Cop kid,” he shrugs.

“Now that? Was a lie,” Derek says, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards.

“Fine,” Stiles agrees with a smile. “I kind of had to learn after mom died. It was easier on dad if he thought I was doing okay.”

Derek looks out the window, chews his lip. Stiles is still a bit surprised all the frowning hasn’t given him wrinkles yet.

“Laura never knew about Kate. As much as I blamed myself I knew she’d go after her. So I kept lying to her.”  _ Wow. _ “She could always tell before the fire. Not after.”

“But you know I know?” It wasn’t intended as a question, but it is what it is.

“I never thought you  _ didn’t  _ know.” He smiles, but it’s a sad sort of smile that Stiles doesn’t really know what to do with. “You’re too chaotic good not to have read the files.”

“Alignments? Oh man, talk dirty to me,” Stiles says to lighten the mood a bit, taking a sip from his juice. “Please tell me you did D&D.”

“Laura did. She was a GM, figured it was good leader training. They’d play at ours sometimes, I never joined but it was fun to watch.”

“That’s… Genius, actually.”

“I was more of a WoW kid.”

Stiles almost chokes on nothing and spills orange juice on his shirt. Well, it's Derek's shirt, but still. It’s all worth it though, because Derek laughs loud and so carefree that Stiles can’t help but smile back. Derek laughs even more when Stiles slides him his phone to show him what Derek’s named in his contacts.

 

Derek takes his hand as they cross the street and doesn’t let go. Stiles gives in to a weak moment of allowing himself the illusion of this being okay, of  _ them  _ being okay. That this is something he gets to keep. He expects to feel fucked up, wistful. As ugly as the feeling in his guts the first time he left Derek’s hotel room like a thief in the night.

Derek brushes his knuckles with his thumb and Stiles doesn’t feel guilty at all.

  
  


What he really doesn’t expect is the month of radio silence that follows, a few snaps here and there aside. It’s all unidentifiable things like food and books and the dashboard of the Toyota. Archiving files at the station keeps him busy, sure, but that’s a day job and when Stiles gets home in the evening, it’s mostly just him and his thoughts.

 

Which is why he’s so surprised when Malia lets herself in a Wednesday night while he’s dozing on and off on the sofa.

 

”Hi stranger,” Malia says, sinking down on the seat next to him. ”What've you been up to?”

”Killing moths and dusting shelves that haven’t seen the light of day since Truman was president. 

"Truman?" Malia frowns.

"The 40's," he explains, and she nods with a soft laugh. "You?”

”Teaching Theo how to coyote, mostly,” she says. ”It's so weird, being the teacher instead of the pupil. But it's nice to not be the only coyote. Different, but nice.”

She smiles to herself, a smile Stiles has only ever seen directed at himself. He catches the blush though, which is very new. Instead of hurt or betrayal, all he feels is happy for her. He reaches out, stroking a gentle thumb over the red in her cheeks.

”You like him,” Stiles says, soft and playful and not nearly as accusative as he feared he'd sound. Malia looks surprised too, shifting a little next to him. “You  _ like  _ like him.”

”I do. Does it bother you?”

”You liking someone else, or you liking him in ways you didn't with me?”  

”Either. Both.” She settles back into the cushions when he shakes his head no.

”No. Neither.” He takes her hand because it feels right, even if this is it. She's still Malia. He still cares, still wants her happy.

”Is it because of Derek?”

Stiles' eyes snap up to Malia's, and there's no judgement there. If anything, she looks worried.

”I'm so sorry,” he stutters. ”I'm so fucking sorry.”

”Why?” She frowns.

”Because I ruined this, didn't I? Us?”

”Stiles,” she turns a little and takes both his hands in hers. ”Some things don't last.  _ That's okay _ . I do still love you, but I'm not  _ in  _ love with you. Breakups don't have to be explosive, ours just happened to be the fading kind.”

”How'd you know about Derek?”

”Braeden kept complaining about being one man short because he kept going to Beacon Hills. Like, three times as much as Scott mentioned him being here,” Malia chuckles, and Stiles has to smile back, relieved she's not angry. That at least this works out.

”That's why I came here actually. My birth mother is dead. Figured you'd wanna know.”

”So he's coming back,” he nods, stomach filling with anticipation and dread simultaneously. Because  _ they  _ are coming back. Both of them. ”Fuck, they're coming back.”

”Hey, hey. Breathe with me,” Malia says, but Stiles can't feel his hands and everything feels tinny and he's going to have to watch Derek with Braeden and he has  _ less than a day  _ to brace himself and-

”Fuck,” Malia says, and physically picks Stiles up and carries him up the stairs to the shower, making it hot like he told her he'd have it when anxiety got the best of him. ”You’ll be alright.” She strokes his cheeks before swiftly cutting his shirt off with her claws. ”Let's get you into the warmth.”

 

He wakes yet again to someone letting themselves into the house. This time it’s through the window of his bedroom, and he’s confused at first until he turns and sees who it is.

“Hi. Hey,” he says eloquently. Derek looks like he’s been slapped with a rotten fish, though, bringing Stiles out of his daze. “What?”

”Smells like her,” Derek says, aiming for flippant and landing somewhere closer to disgust and accusation. ”She's been in your bed.”

”And what, I'm going to pretend you didn't just sneak out of the loft and away from Braeden?” Stiles doesn't even move. Whatever fucks he used to give about keeping appearances up, they're gone.

”I haven't seen her in a month, and everything in here smells like Malia.  _ Especially  _ you,” he spits out.

”A month?” Stiles asks, ignoring the rest. ”Where have you been?”

”New York. Selling Laura's old properties.”

”Why?”

”I was going to buy a house, but seeing as I apparently have no reason to stay here, I'll be leaving,” Derek sighs, reluctantly moving towards the window.

”I had a panic attack. Malia came by to tell me you were coming back to Beacon Hills and I panicked so bad I vomited all over myself, so she helped me shower and stayed until I fell asleep. I don't know when she left, I’ve been asleep for hours.”

”Because of  _ me _ ?” Derek frowns. ”Did I do something you didn't-” His voice breaks a little, and he sinks down on the bed next to Stiles' legs. He won’t touch Stiles though, and it breaks Stiles’ heart even more when he starts suspecting what Derek’s thinking. He knows enough about Derek’s history to know. It takes all he has to not reach out for him.

”Because of you and Braeden,” Stiles clarifies. ”I thought I could do it, but I can't, alright? I can't do it. It’s one thing to know she exists somewhere else, another to see you with her.”

”I haven't seen her in a month,” Derek repeats. ”Left to find Corinne, she just came by to pick up the last of her things.”

”What?” Stiles turns, and Derek just shrugs.

”I'm guessing she figured it out. Didn’t seem upset by it. Neither one of us have really been around before that, either.”

”I'm sorry.”

”I'm not.” Derek says, steady and sure. ”I've got a lot of regrets, but you're not one of them.”

“Malia’s been with Theo for almost two months,” Stiles says for lack of other things to say, other ways to explain. “But I think they’ve seen it coming for more than that.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I think we both know that I am.” At that he does reach out, and Derek toes off his shoes before joining him fully on the bed, pulling the covers back over them.

“They’re gonna know I've been here.”

“I know.”

“They’ll be able to tell where, too.”

“Let them,” Stiles says, and Derek smiles for the first time since he climbed in. 

 

When he kisses him, it feels like the start of something new. Unlike that first time it’s feather light and nearly soundless, apart from Derek’s hands sliding up from the cover to cradle his face. 

“I can’t believe I get to have this,” Derek says in a breathless huff of relief.

“Me neither. I’m gonna take you out on so many cheesy dates,” Stiles grins, and Derek laughs out loud this time. "The old yawn/arm trick at the movies. Sneak out the window to go mess around in the backseat of the Camaro at Makeout Point."  Stiles says, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Christ," Derek chuckles, but leans in to nibble on Stiles' neck anyway.

"Warned you," Stiles says, sliding his hands under Derek's shirt.

 

 

Stiles makes his way downstairs a few hours later. It turns out even alphas get jetlagged. Stiles on the other hand slept most of the previous day. Besides, he heard his dad move about downstairs and figured it would be better to come down say hi instead of having him come up to check on Stiles and find a bed full of werewolf.

“Thought you’d still be at the station.”

“Had to drop off some files. Put some scrambled eggs in the fridge if you want.”

“Thanks,” Stiles nods and moves to get them out. Scott has a pack brunch scheduled, but everything Stiles ate last night came up again and he’s feeling it now.

”So Derek's finally back, huh?” 

 

He stops what he’s doing, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

 

”How'd you know?”

”Came by the station yesterday, applied for the job I offered him a year ago. Also you have beard rash and a bitemark on your neck,” Noah says calmly, making little marks in the margins of his papers.

”Oh.”

”I only have two questions; what about Malia?”

”Yeah that's been over for a while, we just didn't really talk it through. She's with Theo.”

”Oh, okay,” his dad says, nodding. ”Second question; is Derek still here?”

After some hesitation, Stiles nods.

”He went back to sleep. We had a Talk with capital T last night, I think he’ll sleep until we need to go to Scott’s.”

”Ask him if he wants to come around for dinner. I've got some papers he needs to sign. But honestly?” He sets down the papers and leans back in the chair. Stiles can see now that they’re the very papers Derek needs to go through. “I've missed the kid.It'll be good to have him around.”

“I thought you’d be more surprised.” Noah chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, no. If you’d only been curious about him, I probably would have been. But you’ve been protective of him for as long as you’ve known him, and that says a lot.”

Stiles doesn't answer, just nods. There's not really a lot he can say, anyway- his dad's right. 

 

When he gets back upstairs with a tray of toast, eggs and juice for both of them, Derek's awake but still wrapped in the sheets. When he reaches for a piece of toast the covers fall down enough that Stiles can see the lovebites on his neck and chest.

“I thought they’d disappear.” 

”Bruising isn't enough to trigger the healing,” Derek hums, pulling him closer until they're curled around eachother, legs brushing under warm sheets. "Takes more than that."

”So what, you'd punch yourself until it kicked in?”

”A broken bone usually does the trick.”

”Like a finger?” Stiles says, frowning.

”Arm,” he shrugs.

”You've broken your  _ arm _ every time I've left marks when we've been with eachother?” Stiles almost sits up, but Derek pulls him back down. “Derek, that’s, what? Ten broken arms?”

“Leg once,” he says, and Stiles rolls his eyes a little at him being overly specific. “And it’s thirteen.”

”This isn't improving your case, buddy. You could've just told me not to mark you up so bad.”

”It was worth it,” he says without hesitation.

”Don't break any bones today,” he says, much more softly. 

”Not planning on it,” Derek nods. Stiles leans in and gives him an extra hickey, right above his heart, just for good measure. “You got a text, by the way.”

He sits up, picking his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants where they're discarded on the floor.

 

**From Scott** :

_ You awake? Need to call _

 

**To Scott:**

_ Yeah, sure _

 

Scott calls almost instantly.

_”Hey, I gotta tell you, Malia's brought Theo. She sent us a text last night about you guys breaking up, but is it too early? I mean, are you gonna be okay?”_ Scott asks. _”I'm not kicking her out of the pack but I could call brunch off.”_

”No, Scott. It's okay.” Stiles hears Derek shuffle about behind him, checking his own phone.

_ ”Are you sure, man?” _

”Yeah, it's okay. Really. This is a long time coming, still good friends kinda thing. Thank you though.”

_”Anything,”_ Scott says sincerely.

”You, um... You could get another chair out? I guess.”

_ ”Wait, you're bringing someone too?” _

”I am,” Stiles confirms, and Derek's lips brush against the nape of his neck. “Malia knows. It’s okay.”

_ “Do I know who it is?”  _

He looks at Derek, who nods, then noses at the hickey behind Stiles’ ear.

“Yeah, you do.”

Scott goes quiet for a little while, then he exhales heavily.

_ “You know, I wondered why you were so happy when you came back from Sacramento. We have enough food, you guys can bring snacks. I’ll get the chair out. Tell Derek I'm happy for you both.” _

“Thank you,” Derek mumbles into his neck, and Stiles hangs up, allowing himself to be pulled back into bed.


End file.
